Livin' on a powder keg...

Both kiddos were tucked in bed. Finally. Lunches made for the next day. Bits and pieces from the day picked up, nightly duties done.

I gather fabric I had been staring at for a few days, my trusted peasant dress pattern, and supplies. Spreading everything out on the floor, imagining the final dress in my mind.

"Mommy!"

It's just me. Again.

She can't sleep.  Just one more lullaby. And another goodnight kiss?

"Love you, baby girl."

"Love you, Mommy...good night!"

Back downstairs, I look at the sewing project strewn across the floor.  I get it cut out, but I no longer have the heart or motivation to sit down at the sewing machine.

I'm beat down. Worn out. Done.

Last Thursday, himself left for the bi-annual NASCAR duty week. That same day, I dealt with yet another crisis at the boy's school. A phone call with the principal. Never, ever a happy day, that.

Saturday morning, the girl woke us all up with a pre-dawn puke show.  By that evening, she was running a fever.

Sunday night, the boy followed suit. As did Himself, who never made it beyond the bathroom for next 18 hours.

Monday morning, I called into work. If my calculations are correct, I've already burned my personal hours for the school year.

This morning, a quiet battle to get the girl off to school whilst her brother slept on. A quick trip to the school to pick up homework for the boy and I made it to work only forty minutes late. Only to have one of our kiddos projectile vomit all over the floor.

So tonight, he spoke in a tone that didn't sit well and I snapped.  I've been holding it all together. Working through a mountain of soiled bedding, sanitizing floors and bathrooms. Making sure everyone is getting their fluids, eating, getting stronger, healthy.  Back on schedules.

And it was an off tone that broke me.

The sewing project can be finished tomorrow.  Spring decided to take a break, so the girl can wait a day or two for a new sundress.

Both kiddos are headed back to school tomorrow.

Himself is headed back to work.

My hour and a half between me leaving work and kiddos' bus arriving returns to being sacred. Because I need to stop giving off sparks.  For all of our health.